Halves
by Justified Wings
Summary: One-shot. Prior to Drakengard. An analysis and theory of how Furiae and Inuart came to be betrothed, Caim's reaction to it, and to the idea of betrothal in general. - Slight CxF


**Halves**

_She seems absolutely thrilled._

It was all he could think when he looked at her. The way she bounded into his room out of breath and cheeks flushed, Caim thought something out of the ordinary had occurred. She looked happy, though, and knowing his younger sister, she was likely enthused about something small and trivial.

Furiae had been raised in a rather sheltered style. She had two loving parents, a wonderful brother who she thought was as handsome as the bright moon, and a rather small group of accepting friends. She was content with all of this, however. She was relieved just knowing that she had others to turn to, especially given how socially inept she was often said to be. To be alone in the world otherwise would have been such a cruel fate.

"You should sit," Caim commented as he gestured to the foot of his bed.

She did as he suggested and leaned back onto the palms of her hands. The upturn of her lips was grand and told even more when the same expression was held within her eyes.

For a moment, neither one said a word. Brother and sister they were, but both could be ridiculously stubborn. They were still young and each had their way of showing their particular ambitions and thoughts, even if it meant sitting in mere silence.

"Well?" Furiae finally asked.

The other folded his arms across his chest and quietly admired her, "Well, what? If you're thinking I can read your mind, you're wrong."

That wasn't entirely true. Nine times out of ten, Caim knew what was happening before she truly had a grasp on the situation. Being the older of the two, it made more sense for him to be aware, so he could ensure the safety of his sibling. She was something precious to their parents. She was something precious to _him_.

She pouted a little, clearly not serious given the amusement sprinkled across her features, "How is it that you didn't know? Let met tell you all about it. You will be as happy as I am when you have heard, I'm sure!"

**-x-x-x-**

"Caim!"

His posture straightened, tension filling his body, and he tightened his hold upon the hilt of his broadsword, "Yes? I'm listening."

"Are you, really?"

"Of course."

The hand gripped his shoulder and he found himself nearly tripping over his feet. His free hand lifted and he reached for the nearest stable object, a reasonably tall man. His face was kind, lips giving a confident smile, and an expression that showed generosity and strength rolled into one.

"If you had truly been paying attention, you could have avoided that. I've taught you the counter to it already, haven't I? Or were you not paying attention then as well?"

The boy cringed. No one else knew him quite the way family did. "I _have_ been paying attention. I just slipped. Try it again. I'll show you."

His companion laughed, "So full of spirit today. Did something set you off? One of your tutors perhaps?"

"No," Caim lied.

It would have been false to claim that he liked his instructors. Most of them were old and smelled like rancid fruit and cheese. They weren't terribly interesting and they did a lot of lecturing, which he could have lived without. If all of his studies had been like his sword training, he would have liked them much better.

"I know you better than that." But the subject was left alone, "Where is that little friend of yours? The one with the red hair."

"Inuart, you mean," Caim corrected the older man. "I haven't seen him. Why do you ask? I thought he was getting his own training. Did you decide to have us train together?"

That spelled disaster. Caim was a good four years older than Inuart. He couldn't imagine sparring with the young kid without possibly hurting him. The end result wasn't meant to be that way. Caim's ability with a sword could easily be underestimated and it was far better to separate him than to put him up against the less experienced.

"Not at all. Your mother and I were just thinking that he seems a fine young man. Your sister has taken a liking to him."

Caim sheathed his sword and brushed himself off before leaning against the stone fountain in the courtyard. "Furiae?"

Did she really like him that much? She was quiet when it wasn't just her with the family. Unless, of course, she'd decided to define Inuart as family, something he couldn't quite bring himself to believe. She hardly ever talked around Inuart, though. Caim didn't think she really carried on conversation unless it was with him, and that was his favourite type of conversation.

"Are you sure about that, Father?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "She acts nice to everyone. She could be seen as liking me as much as she could be seen liking him."

"Mind your tongue," his companion chided. "What would the hierarchs think, hearing you say that? Those are blasphemous words."

Caim shook his head, "No. I was making a valid argument. Furiae can act as nice as she would like to, but it doesn't mean she likes that particular person. She's not old enough to determine who and what she truly likes. As far as she knows, she's just being polite." He paused and lifted a hand as though to correct himself, "There's nothing wrong with being polite."

His father gave a tight-lipped smile, "When did you become such an expert on your younger sister? Will you do this with each suitor that we decide upon?"

Caim very well could have. If he'd wanted to, of course. It _was_ his responsibility to make sure she was well and content. He wouldn't have considered Inuart to be a suitor, though. The boy seemed more like a playmate, just someone to spend the additional time with.

"It isn't like that," Caim protested. "She's only twelve. She won't know what love is except the love she feels for you and Mother. Even so, she should be allowed to be happy. Somehow prosperity appears cheapened when she's raised to believe she's happy."

"Don't be ridiculous," was the reply. "We would like for her to be happy also. Do not make the error of thinking you are the only one who wants the best for her."

He dropped his gaze to the ground, nothing except cold stone and gravel like the rest of the castle. "I understand. You and Mother are under the impression that Inuart will be a good match for her then."

"Again, she does seem to like him, or perhaps it is the other way around. Has he said anything to you?"

A hand at the base of his chin, Caim thought carefully. Inuart had never come straight out and admitted anything like that, but he had at least claimed he thought Furiae was pretty. Fortunately, Caim had not been the mediator between the two just yet. That wasn't a position he wanted. He couldn't quite explain why, but the thought alone left a rather sour taste, which meant it was most likely something to avoid.

"I haven't heard a word." Then he withdrew his sword, "Shall we continue, Father?"

**-x-x-x-**

He paused in the doorway, hesitated for just a moment, and then leaned against the support, "You sent for me?"

She didn't rise from her chair. Instead, she patted the one beside her, and although her back was to him, she seemed to know what he was doing. "That is hardly good on your back. Come, darling boy, and sit with me."

Darling boy. Caim had never let any other call him that. In his opinion he had never been "darling" and he had outgrown "boy" some time ago. Still, she'd persisted, saying he was her only son and like her husband, Caim was a sense of pride and joy in the Royal Family. For this reason, among others, he allowed this attachment to continue and spent every day hoping Furiae wouldn't pick up on it.

He moved from the door and eased himself into the chair she'd offered. No sooner had he when she reached forward and straightened the collar of his tunic.

"You always look so devastatingly handsome," she crooned with approval. "All of the young ladies of Caerleon must be looking at you. Do you truly consider it, Caim?"

"No." He gave a vague smile, more or less nonexistent, "My eyes are always so much on you that I pay little attention to the others."

His mother laughed, a rather heartwarming sound, "Such a charmer too! No woman should be able to resist that." As she lurched forward, she softened her tone, "I've a question for you."

He leaned toward her curiously, "Is that so? Do tell." His tone was one of mocking, but he was entirely sincere. If it was not important, she simply would have continued, as though it was nothing.

"What do you know of your sister?"

The question appalled him. What did he know of her? It was silly (but not entirely inaccurate) to assume he had any information that could not be obtained through the parents. He stared blankly for a few moments and sat back, thoughtful and contemplative. Perhaps his mother would tell him that Furiae was not truly his sister. Perhaps she was only a scandalous half-sister. Perhaps they would send her away to what they believed would be better for her. That question alone brought up endless possibilities, most of which he had already given thought to at one time or another. If any of the aforementioned had been the case, it would not have altered his perception in the least. Even if she had not been his sister in the eyes of the world, he would still define her as such.

"I do not understand," he finally confessed, a bit annoyed that he couldn't pry the information from his companion with his stare alone.

His mother smiled, a very considerate expression, "I assure you that you've little to worry about." His surprise was evident. "A mother knows. There is a vague pout of your lips that ensues when you begin to grow concerned."

She shook her head and continued, "You spend far more time with her than your father or I could ever hope to. Does Caerleon seem appropriate for her? Does she execute her studies well? Surely if anyone were to know it would be you. She _does_ hold such adoration for you."

"Furiae seems fine to me. I rarely see her upset. Those in the town treat her well. She doesn't socialize much, but neither do I. She probably likes the simple things best."

Although he likely knew her better than anyone else, he could admit that he didn't know everything. It would have come as no shock if he was to learn that she was not always upfront with him. There was no requirement for her to be. Anything she _did_ share was meant to remain confidential. That seemed to be good enough for both of them.

She looked relieved and when Caim watched the muscles in her face relax, he thought she and Furiae looked identical to one another. In fact, both children looked like their mother, but Caim had been told from an early age that he had inherited his strength and charisma from his father—rather than the sunny blond hair, or those green eyes.

"That is very good to hear," the older woman commented. "It would be tormenting if she was to be anything other than content." There was a brief pause and then clear hesitance, "We have been speaking, your father and I, and it seems we have agreed that it is the appropriate time to find Furiae's other half."

_This. Again. Obviously they have chosen to speak to me in different methods. Mother is far more blatant, however, and tends to cut to the point rather than attempting to be sly and clever._

He nearly sighed in disbelief. He still didn't quite agree with putting Furiae in such a position. She was just a child. It seemed unfair to force her to grow up before her time. Of course, the story always went that life wasn't fair and people just had to accept it when bad things were threatening to happen. Caim didn't agree with this. Unlike Furiae, however, he was older. Soon, he wouldn't be a child any longer. It seemed as though it was more imperative to send Furiae off to another household and let Caim take his rightful place as the future ruler of Caerleon.

"Come now," his mother gestured to his face. "You look so displeased. Your father tried talking to you about this already, didn't he?" She frowned and her expression hardened, "He always does this. Never bothers discussing with me how we should present the situation. He simply acts and then when he does bring up the controversial subjects, he says them incorrectly. Men simply do not have a way with words."

Frustrated, she rose to her feet and wrung her hands together, clearly agitated. After a few moments of pacing, as though going over the choice of words she'd utilized, she turned to Caim and wagged a forefinger at him. "I did not mean you. You are an exception to that. You were raised to speak very carefully and to have valid reasoning for when you did speak."

Right, because children were to be seen and not heard. Caim remembered his studies very well. He really had no desire to act out of line with his parents, however. There was no need for a rebellion. There was no need to go out of his way to cause conflict. He had an odd sort of understanding with his mother and father, one where he didn't always have to speak. Perhaps it was something acquired with age. After all, he was utterly convinced that no one really knew him any better than his own mother—and she was a very insightful sort of person. Kind to a fault at times, but at others incredibly stern and attentive.

"What did he say to you?"

Leaning onto the arm rest for the chair, he cradled his chin in the palm of his right hand, "Nothing too out of the ordinary. He said he thought Inuart was a fine young man and that he had potential to be Furiae's suitor. You were just going to say the same thing, weren't you? I don't see why you're making such an ordeal out of Father talking about that. No, he doesn't have the eloquence you do, but you're a woman. There's a difference."

"What a tone to take with your mother," she scolded Caim who immediately straightened his posture and replied by crossing a leg over the other, no matter how uncomfortable it might have been. "If that is all he said, then why do you look so irritated? Surely he said something else that agitated you."

Well, sure. Caim's father often said things that were irritating. On the other hand, perhaps it wasn't _what_ he said, but rather _how_ he said it, as though he gave no thought before parting his lips and speaking. Caim couldn't really agree with that sort of behaviour. There was something about method and sound reasoning to words that gave them more strength and power. A capable leader had to leave no room for misinterpretations, whether deliberate or not.

He finally shook his head, "It wasn't that. I was just thinking that I can't agree with forcing my offspring into the position of adulthood when they are still children." Not that he could truly picture himself with offspring. Caim couldn't even picture himself married. That wasn't even on his list of priorities, although with any future coronations for him, he likely needed to begin giving it serious consideration.

"You will see it differently when you are my age," his mother reassured him. She leaned down to him and ruffled his hair affectionately. Then she smiled, as though the previous anger she held for her husband had completely faded away, "It is terribly endearing how concerned you are for her well being." When he began to withdraw, she drew him in by tugging upon his ear. "Come now, don't be so ridiculous."

It didn't seem to do any good to try hiding his uncertainty, so when he looked up at her, he didn't fight against her attempt to embrace him. Straightening his posture and letting her draw him up from the chair, he slipped his arms around her. Already, he was her height and would likely wind up even as tall as his father. His left hand toyed with the ends of her hair and as she nestled her face against his shoulder, he found himself somewhat in recognition of the rare moments he had with Furiae.

"Really, we are doing what we believe will be the best for her," his mother reassured him, well aware of the doubts he suffered through.

She also knew, however, that it didn't matter what she said. The position of an older brother to a younger sister would always feel the same. It was a burden and a privilege at the same time. No matter where she was sent to, no matter what she did or did not endure, Caim would worry all the same. And that made it no less than darling to his mother.

**-x-x-x-**

"Did you hear me?"

Caim shook his head quickly and paused when he found Furiae clutching the front of his tunic. Even on the tips of her toes she couldn't reach him. He leaned a hand down to rest upon the top of her head. "Sorry."

"You weren't listening!" his younger sister pouted again, wholeheartedly offended by his lack of observance. "I thought Mother and Father were trying to break you of that."

He leveled her with a look, "Don't start in on that. I get enough of it from both of them and you know it. I was listening. Just because it doesn't look like I was doesn't mean my head was up in the clouds."

She didn't look convinced. She hung back, mocked him by folding her arms across her chest, and rocked back onto the heels of her slippers, "If you really were listening, then tell me what I just said."

Caim had only halfway been listening. He'd heard Inuart's name and felt it was a safe assumption that their parents had already told Furiae she would become his wife in the future. A betrothal the books called it. It was a tradition that passed down through many families and he wouldn't have been surprised to find out their own parents had come together with that same idea behind their relationship. No, Caim hadn't been matched up with anyone just yet, but he had also expressed how vehemently against it he was, and therefore the attempts had stopped. Although he always kept in consideration that the outcome wasn't going to be permanent. After Furiae was wed, his parents would probably pester him to find a young lady to settle down with.

His eyebrows knit together in thought, "Well… You were talking about Inuart, weren't you?"

Furiae seemed to grow even more frustrated by his response. She turned stiffly and sat at the edge of his bed again, "You do not even care."

"…I didn't say that…" Caim began. He drew in a sigh and shook his head slowly, "It was just…"

He couldn't exactly come entirely clean to her. He didn't think it would be fair. After all, she _did_ seem happy. To argue against it and to say what he believed would probably cause a large ordeal to come of it all. The last thing he wanted to do was to upset her, even if he was trying to be an appropriate older brother for her.

Finally he dusted himself off, "Mother and Father already told me. They asked me if I thought Inuart would be good for you. I think as long as you're happy that's all that really matters."

Her expression altered, softened in an instant and she rewarded him with a smile, "Oh! So you already knew then. You don't seem nearly as excited about it as I am, though. You get to dress up you know."

Which wasn't something he was looking forward to. He tipped his head to the side, "Well, I'm not the one getting married. It isn't an occasion meant for me to be ecstatic over. A wedding day is for the princess, you realize."

Pausing by his bed, he sat beside her, peered across her angelic face, and lifted a hand to draw her locks of brown behind her ear, "So you _are_ happy then, right? If you aren't, then you shouldn't be pretending that you are. That's all I really have to say on it."

She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she simply stared up at him in wonder, perhaps a vague admiration that younger sisters always held for their older brothers. He was a wise man, of course. She'd known that already and it showed when she nodded to him. Then she took his hand and her lips upturned again, "Yes. I'm very happy, Caim. I hope you will be happy for me as well."

Her gesture caused him to halt. Then he closed his fingers around her delicate hand, weary of harming her. What she said, however, didn't seem to correspond to what he truly believed. She _couldn't_ be happy. Not really… could she?

_Yes. Me too. I hope that I can be happy for you, Furiae._

That was when he realized as he held her in such a way, that her cheeks had turned a becoming shade of red. And the suspicion made his stomach sink.


End file.
